Mr Ferguson Is Ill Today
by KeirSeraphim
Summary: When John ran off to Mexico, he knew that it wasn't a good idea, but he did it anyway. Now he has to deal with the consequences of his dangerous 'vacation'. Warning- Spanking


A/N- This is set right after 2x08 Mr. Ferguson Is Ill Today. John takes his girlfriend to Mexico, without telling his mom, and gets arrested and tracked down by a cyborg who tries to kill him, and ends up killing multiple people. The entire time I was watching, all I could think was 'John so deserves a spanking for going to Mexico.' Please enjoy, and of course, review.

The drive back had been a turbulent one, with his mom's break down and smashing of the Terminator's chip to pieces, and then getting sick. John had mostly kept his head down, looking to avoid the angry yet disappointed look sure to be gracing his mother's face if it wasn't contorted in nausea and his Uncle's penetrating stare, betraying the inner monologue of the war hardened soldier. It was a look that screamed 'That isn't John Connor. That is a stupid teenager. He's no war hero. He won't save the world.' The look always managed to hit his heart, and make him feel inferior to himself.

Cameron would have a faraway look in her cyborg eyes, that really just showed how non-alive she was. She was picking bullets out of her arm at that moment, maneuvering her agile fingers deftly. In what had seemed like no time at all to John Connor, future leader of mankind, 16 year old about to get screamed at, they had arrived back at their beautiful home. It was by far the nicest place the Connors had ever stayed at, and every now and then, John would think of the family that had once resided there and laugh at the idea of a 6 year old playing Legos on the same table they cleaned the guns on. This was not one of those said times. It was not a time for idle thoughts at all.

They had been home for two hours when his mom sent Derek and Cameron out to do something or other, presumably grocery shopping and then to stock up their ammunitions and check the weapons in their storage cell. They would be gone for a while, and John hadn't even taken off his headphones when they left. That was the position his mom found him in when she let herself in about half an hour later, laying down, headphones on, trying to block out the universe. It was quintessential teen.

His mom had calmed down since they had gotten home. Still, while no longer furious with him and his actions, she was visibly irritated, with just a hint of disappointment shining through. She sat down in the straight backed chair he had placed near his bead a while ago when he was painting and never removed. It had no arms, so she folded hers on her lap, in what looked to be a semi-casual stance to any onlooker. To John, she was all business. Quintessential mom.

It was John who started speaking first, after lasting only a few seconds of her appraising stares. "I know mom. It was stupid of me to go okay. I know." He hung his head, although his eyes were still blazing with a teenage defiance that was warring with shame. His mother sighed.

"It was more than stupid John. You could have been seriously hurt. You know better than to run off on your own. Especially when there is a terminator after you! I've trained you better than that John Connor, and you disregarded all of your training today!" Her voice had done a crescendo over the course of the lecture, reaching its peak. When his chin dropped even closer to his chest, she lowered her voice. "John, a lot of people died today, and it was partially due to your foolish behavior. Come here." She gestured to her side, and John froze on his bed. She was not inviting him over for a hug, and he knew it.

This punishment was not foreign to him. He had received spankings numerous times over the years, quite a few of them being while in the jungle. There was nothing to take away from him, nowhere to ground him from, and not very many chores to assign him besides cleaning the guns, which he did anyway. Therefore, for his worst transgressions, he was taken over his mother's knee. As familiar as the whole thing was however, he still froze, sitting still on the edge of the bed, staring at the ground. He shook his head, a futile effort at getting out of this, although his logical mind supplied him with information that there was no getting out of this.

Sarah Connor's voice rose again. "John Connor! Come here right now!" She was using the same voice she used for commands, "Run, Duck, Take Cover!" and he followed the tone instinctively, his feet bringing him forward even as his mind rebelled. He soon found himself standing between his mother's legs, and bent over her left knee. She placed her leg over his own, and put a hand on his back, effectively stopping any would be attempts at escape.

He was wearing flannel pajama bottoms, and they were pulled down deftly, a skill borne of practice, and the swats began. Sarah Connor was deceptively strong. Years of conditioning had left her with the strength of a fully grown man, and that muscle came out in her spankings. Soon, John was squirming like a madman, his rear end was burning with enough heat to presumably cause 3rd degree burns, and he could not stop a few tears from leaking down his face.

As the spanking progressed in both speed and power, the burning in his butt became near unbearable. He started sobbing right about when his mom started to lecture. "You will never" SWAT "run away without us knowing" SWAT "Ever again!" SWAT "You almost got" SWAT "killed, you almost got" SWAT "a lot of people killed." SWAT "you will never" SWAT "do this again" SWAT "do you" SWAT "understand me?"

John managed to stutter out a broken "Yes" before once again falling limp and letting his sobs overwhelm him. With a few extra hard swats to his sit spot which had him howling, she lowered her hand and did not raise it again. She gently pulled up his pants, and John sat there, laid over his mother's lap, half kneeling on the ground due to his height, and balled his eyes out. Sarah quickly began rubbing his back soothingly and stroking his head gently, waiting for him to calm down. This was the form of comfort he had come to expect, not a hug or anything direct such as that, just a small comfort.

It was late, and when Sarah pulled John up and over to his bed, he was asleep in seconds. She sat near him for a moment, still stroking his hair, just as she had when he was young, before standing and pulling a blanket over her sleeping son. She sighed and turned, walking out the door. There were weapons she needed to repair and reload, and a pain that needed to be numbed.


End file.
